


Jack the Ripper

by The_Spiral_Staircase



Category: Morrissey - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Jack the Ripper Murders, O England, Songfic, Suburbia, prose/poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 16:28:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30125646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Spiral_Staircase/pseuds/The_Spiral_Staircase
Summary: This is about human pity and love for people who were actually lost long before “Jack” gets them.And yes, here Jack is just a romanticized notion, another name for “life”.
Relationships: "Jack"/his victims





	Jack the Ripper

Photo: Skinheads in London City in 1981

CC BY 2.0

[nicksarebi](https://www.flickr.com/photos/34517490@N00/) \- <https://www.flickr.com/photos/34517490@N00/3332783357/>

JACK THE RIPPER

I’ll tell you, you’re the one for me

If you’re alone in the lab

Overshadowed by men colleagues

Doing overtime

Over 35

Beautiful in a way that nobody sees, because nobody looks.

Tired of pulling your hair back, year after year

Any whites yet?

And you’re the one for me

Stumbling home from pub,

a basically handsome male just past your prime,

lots of space in between the eyes, just space

Cropped hair and a very wide brow

almost abnormal

In there you harbour, no, you nurse a golden dream of England,

washed and polished with tears and beer.

To the failed interview,

To England.

To Brexit now,

and... to England, mate.

And you housewife, carrying groceries, weary of this life

just stepped off your train, wake up and sniff the fresh air of the suburb

Heels clanging down the iron stairs,

Hair lank which I long to touch, and I will

I will lift those bags from your hands and carry them for you

I’ll carry you for you,

Spare you the bore of this evening’s chores.

There’s a tropical Island at the end of the alley

and now that you’re becoming the sunset

You can exhale your relief

Left behind

Missed your chance

Your husband beats you

But I love your bruises

and I’ll collect you, my dear debris,

Make an ode of your life

which my gesture completes.

  
  


You never had a story, but I’ll give you one.

**Author's Note:**

> I had Morrissey’s song “Jack the Ripper” on my mind while writing this, so probably listening to it would help convey the right mood. Better the live version, on Beethoven Was Deaf (1993). 
> 
> Written on St. Patrick’s Day, for: “Irish Blood, English Heart”, he said.  
> But then, the things he said...


End file.
